Wizard of the Dead, and other tales
by Escagirl
Summary: Short drabbley fic ideas. Set during the third movie. Aragorn get's more than he realises, when he convinced the Dead of Dunharrow to join the war. Other tales include the Return of the Entwives and Blind Regard.
1. Wizard of the Dead

**Wizard of the Dead**

by EscagirlUK

Disclaimer:

I do not own Harry Potter or Lord of the Rings, or anything else in their respective book and movie universes.

Notes:

Totally used a LotR name generator for the king's name. LotR names are weird.

I was just on a LotR binge, and this popped into my head during the scene where Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli go into the Paths of the Dead. A wondering on, what if Harry as Master of Death ended up in the Dunharrow, amongst the ghostly host. And, also, the desire to work in the phrase "my queen".

Will be considered Complete, though I may write more in the future.

Harry watched the three figures - a man and what he assumed was an elf and a dwarf, having never seen either before - as they wandered cautiously through the dark tunnels, with only a single torch and the glowing green mist to light their way.

It had been a long time since he had seen a soul, still wrapped in living flesh. Not since the Battle of Hogwarts, when Voldemort's dying curse cast him through reality and into these halls of the dead.

They were growing close the old courtyard now, and he followed, hidden by magic and shadow. What were these three unlikely companions doing here? A man, an elf, and a dwarf. It was like the start of a bad joke.

"Fight for me, and I will hold your oaths fulfilled. What say you?!"

King Seobryn merely laughed as he faded away, his men retreating also. He paid no heed to the shouts of the mortals as they faded, and set off the trap that they had spent aeons refining. An avalanche of bones within the city soon burst through the gates and filled the passageways.

He watched darkly from beside Harry, as the three mortals fled the flood of bones.

"What say you, my Queen?" He asked the dark-haired, gaunt, man beside him. He smirked at the cringe the immortal made at the title that the Dead of Dunharrow had afforded him.

"I'll miss you, but you all deserve to move on," Harry replied, face bland. "Anyway, it's long past time I rejoined the living, right?"

"You mean to come with us then," the Dead King said.

Harry smiled at the ghost, his form turning as pale and opaquely green as the others.

"They'll never know the difference, my King."

Seobryn cast a look at the boy, and began to plot, even as he called his ghostly host to arms.

"You gave us your word."

"I hold your oath fulfilled," Aragorn spoke. "Go. Be at peace."

Seobryn gave a slow smile, and made a motion with one hand. A ghost separated from the host, and came to his side. This ghost was different from the others, not only was he was younger in appearance - more boy than man, his ghostly flesh showed no signs of decay. But most of all, it was the way the other ghosts acted towards him, as though he were a great treasure, bowing as he passed. The Dead King took the younger ghost's hand in his own.

"Is this truly fine?" Seobryn asked.

"Don't worry so much, I'll be fine, Seobryn." The young ghost looked exasperated. "It won't be the last time we meet, so go already!"

"As you wish, my Queen," Seobryn said slyly, bringing the boy's hand up to kiss the back of it.

"If you weren't already dead, I'd kill you guys for calling me that," he muttered.

"Aragorn, heir of Isildur," the King of the Mountain intoned in his rough gravelly voice, turning to the man. "This is our greatest treasure; our God and our Queen." The boy scowled, embarrassment clear on his face. "This is the Wizard of the Dead, Harreth the Black."

So, gonna do a little Q&A bit here for my reviewers.

Evil genius, libsrevenge, Random Reader, NightStalkersRevenge, and Guest – I do totally want to continue this, I know what I want Harry to go off and do, but my mind cannot come up with how to get Harry from Minas Tirith to where I want him. The wonders of a brain bsod.

Flamenin – Oh yeah, Aragon totally has a brain-bsod moment. I did Harreth because I wanted Harry to have a Middle-Earthy name, and there is apparently some dude called Halleth, so I thought, why not. Also, the Middle-Earth name generator kept insisting that Harry's Wizard name was Olorin, which is Gandalf. Which totally destroys my belief that Gandalf is Dumbledore, poo.

Elspeth – The "my Queen" thing? That was purely for the lulz. Every time I wrote it all I could see in my head was Harry groaning and facepalming.

Plus, Harry is The Master of Death. In my head-canon that means he can _make_ the dead do what he wants. If he orders "go do this" they will, whether they want to or not, like mind control. Or slavery.

Now, Seobryn is a King, and King's are _not_ slaves. But, there's nothing wrong with a King humouring his Queen, now is there? Plus, my King of the Dead? Totally a bit of a troll prankster. Would give the twins a run for their money. Harry's reaction to being called my Queen amuses him.

And to a reader – I never really considered a pairing for this stories future. Though, if there was, it would totally be Legolas. Plus, I would never get in the way of Aragorn and Arwen's romance. I mean, the guy refuses to give up his love for her, knowing she's going to the Undying Lands and he'll never see her again, and Arwen gives up her immortality, essentially discarding her species.

Also, I only put Aragorn as the LotR character because the drop-down menu didn't have the King of the Dead on it.


	2. Return of the Entwives

**Return of the Entwives**

Harry awoke to the warmth of the sun on his face, the rush of water trickling over rock, the coolness of soft moss and rock against his side, and the sounds of animals scurrying through grass and under-brush.

He groaned, eyes opening as he struggled up into a sitting position. Rubbing his eyes of sleep, Harry glanced around for his glasses. They sat, folded, on a mossy ledge gouged into the large boulder he sat beside, and Harry quickly slid them onto his face.

Then Harry looked for the rest of his things. His invisibility cloak lay folded nearby, under a small rock – most likely to keep any wind or animals from carrying it away. Both Harry's holly wand and the Elder Wand were in his pockets, and the Resurrection Stone still sat in the ring on his finger.

Finally assured of where his things were, Harry then looked around the place he had woken.

He sat in a forest clearing. To his side was a large boulder, triangular in shape, almost entirely covered in dark green moss. On the other side of the clearing a small brook burbled away to unknown places. Great trees, as big as those in the Black Forest, loomed around the outskirts of the clearing. Gnarled and twisted, some looked almost human.

Harry's head whipped back to the human-looking tree. Only to find that it had _moved_, it's gnarled face peering closely at him.

Harry screamed – not that he would admit it later, it was a **yell**, a _manly_ yell – in surprise, scrabbling away.

"Burr-hurrum," the tree spoke, crouching down before him. The tree _spoke_! "Why are men, especially wizards, always so _noisy_."

"Umm, sorry?" Harry offered, staring in shock and surprise at the tree. "Sorry, what _are_ you? And, where am I?"

"And so you should be, noisy little man-wizard," the tree scolded. "I am an entwife, Fimbrethil is my name. You are in the Rhun Forest, which borders the Sea of Rhun, and lies within the Land of Rhun."

"I'm Harry Potter. It's nice to meet you." Harry bit his lip. "But, I've never heart of Rhun, and I don't know how I got here."

"I expect that you are far from home, young istari. You appeared here in this clearing some days ago, in a flash of brilliant light. I and my fellow entwives, few as we are, have kept watch over you since. We shall continue to do so, until such time as you find your way home, or move on to elsewhere." Fimbrethil pretended not to notice the wizard, Harry, rubbing tears from his eyes.

"Thank you, Fimbrethil," Harry said, thickly. "Is there anything that I can do, to repay you?"

Fimbrethil paused, and thought.

"We entwives are few, Wizard Harry. We have no ent men; they life far to the west in the Fangorn Forest. We would go to them, but we are afraid. The lands between our two forests are rife with the darkness of Mordor, and we cannot forget the pain that cursed place has caused us. Once, we numbered hundreds, and now we are barely a handful." Fimbrethil watched the wizard, and took a breath. "If it is possible, if you are capable of doing this, then we would ask for entchilder."

Harry swallowed, looking into Fimbrethil's deep, dark, eyes. "I don't know if I can do that, but I'm willing to try," he told the ancient tree woman. She smiled, eyes glittering, and slowly stood back up.

"Thank you, Harry. This is all we would ask for. Now, I shall go speak with my entwives and gather you some food; you rest here. You must recovering your strength."

Fimbrethil turned and headed for the trees. Harry was horrified at the sight of the entwife's back. A great gouge, ragged and blackened, was slashed across her back from neck to hip. It was like... Harry's eyes widened as he suddenly understood Fimbrethil's earlier words.

Harry's hands clenched and his eyes narrowed. Somebody had tried to burn Fimbrethil alive. Probably under orders from this "Mordor" place. They had probably also killed many of Fimbrethil's fellow entwives.

Well. Harry would see about _that_. First, he would make Fimbrethil and her people entchilder – perhaps even fully grown ent men and entwives. All of them protected from fire, so that Fimbrethil would have no need to worry.

And then they would return to Fangorn, crushing all darkness in their way.

Note:

Now, the entwives are not like the ents. The ents have slept for many ages, and they do not constantly keep watch over the Fangorn. In my head-canon this is why it takes them a day just to say "hello" to each other – as they have plenty of time to do stuff, they take longer.

The entwives on the other hand, are constantly patrolling the Rhun Forest, coaxing plants and trees to grow and flourish. So, they do things faster.

I also know that Harry hasn't asked a lot of questions, and the main reason for that is not only his confusion on where he is, but also due to the fact that he has amnesia. He knows he was elsewhere, but he doesn't remember where, and the only thing he does remember is his name, his age, the Hallows, and the fact that he is a wizard. He remembers nothing of earth, the wizarding world, Hogwarts or even his friends.


	3. Blind Regard

**Blind Regard**

by EscagirlUK

Note:  
Here, have a pure LotR original character drabble that's been rumbling around my head in various forms for a few years. OCs ftw.

Feynil crept through the dark forest, searching for mushrooms, when she tripped over a branch she did not remember being on the path she walked, her basket tumbling to the side. A pained groan followed her fall.

'Oh. So. Not a branch, then.'

She discovered she had tripped over what appeared to be a broken leg. Following it along she came to the face of an uruk-hai. Startled, she fell back to the forest floor. Another pained groan followed her.

Eventually she crept back up to the orc, chewing on her bottom lip.

'He's hurt. But he's an orc, I should leave him to die. ...but orc's never travel alone. Why is he alone? A wound like this in an orc band would be easily tended.'

Finally she decided on what to do. Attaching her basket to her belt by a length of leather cord, she then turned to the uruk-hai. Feynil quickly splinted the broken leg; a better splinting could be done when she reached her home. Then she slowly worked the orc onto her back. Securing his arms around her shoulders, she began the slow laborious task of dragging the insensate creature to her home.

Months later she had still not regretted her decision to take up the healing of the uruk-hai; whose name, he had said, was Durzaq, the Deserter.

It had taken him very little time to realise the reason for the blankness in her gaze; or to realise that the blindness had not been as accidental as she liked to pretend. Durzaq kindly did not press her for information.

A year after she had rescued and healed the orc; in a forest clearing, by a crystal clear spring, the scent of honeysuckle in her nose, and the cries of wood pigeons and starlings in her ears, Feynil married Durzaq.


End file.
